


Love as Thou Wilt

by lynndyre, threewalls



Series: Love As Thou Wilt [2]
Category: Kushiel's Legacy - Jacqueline Carey, Yami No Matsuei
Genre: Aftercare, Alternate Religion, Alternate Universe - Fusion, Community: fuda_100, D/s, Drabble Sequence, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-08-24
Updated: 2004-08-24
Packaged: 2017-10-14 09:37:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/147887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lynndyre/pseuds/lynndyre, https://archiveofourown.org/users/threewalls/pseuds/threewalls
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If the Estate mentioned in Book 5 YnM were somewhere in Caerdicci Unitas…</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love as Thou Wilt

**Anael (Nurturing)**

The Steward crossed to his office window at the sound of laughter.

Ruka sat in the garden below. Beside her, the young Master wore an intense blush.

The Steward had not known Ruka loved another, but his heart felt surprisingly light. He had not courted her after his defiance and her near-marriage, nor, he found, did he want to court her as she showed herself grown. He loved her, but was not in love with her.

Catching both the Steward's quiet smile and the laughter through the open window, the Alchemist turned and retraced his steps in the secret passage.

 

 **Camael (Patriotism)**

The Alchemist concluded his tour of the estate with, "it's not much," recalling his guest's city practice and University chair.

The Doctor had been his classmate at La Serenissima's Great University. Their friendship seemed unlikely-- one pursuing medicine single-mindedly, the other's interests scattered across disciplines --yet it endured, tended by sporadic correspondence.

"I envy you," the Doctor sighed. "You live in your homeland, while I am in exile."

The Alchemist answered, "enjoy your visit," instead of "treat my home as your own."

Friendship and experience kept him from asking, yet he wondered still why the Doctor had been exiled.

 

 **Shemhakazi (Philosophy)**

"You alone of this household have not enjoyed my aid."

"I am not ill." The Steward was curt, displeased at being sought out in his own chambers.

"In La Serenissima," the Doctor replied, "they call certain things the D'Angeline sickness."

Before the Steward could react, the Doctor's mouth assaulted his own. The Steward froze, knowing his shame; the fingers wound tight within his hair were but an excuse to yield.

"We D'Angelines do not consider it a sickness," the Doctor continued, his smile pink with the Steward's blood, "yet, I think it is something that I can help you with."

 

 **Kushiel (Mercy)**

Black silk covers his eyes. Steel chain raises his hands. Leather thonging binds him erect. The Steward knew those materials before this began; he forgets them now.

They are not part of the pain.

Twice more the Doctor approached him after the first, threatening jests with willow switches and riding crops mingled with playful threats concerning Ruka and the young Master. He forgets them also.

They are not here.

The Steward's long braid coils his throat, collaring him, choking his cries to gasps. One word, one place in him is golden. He remembers it, but he endures.

This, he deserves.

 

 **Cassiel (Protection)**

The Steward's first awareness of intervention is the cessation of the Doctor's whip- a moment of nothing before the absence of that pain allows all the previous blows to be felt.

The roaring in his ears fades gradually, but there is a space before he hears again.

"Ah, but he agreed to this, my friend. And he has not given his signale. In Terra d’Ange..."

"In Terra d’Ange, this is _blasphemy_ \-- I suggest you leave.”

The Alchemist’s voice is unmistakable, biting with anger. The Steward’s shame drowns in his relief.

Except-- from the doorway--

"An interesting choice of signale, ‘alchemy’...”

 

 **Azza (Egotism)**

The Doctor had not completely broken the Steward, but there was something exquisite and nostalgic in an accountant’s tightly reined control; his first whore had been of Bryony House.

Eighteen years before, he’d bought his exile with his pleasure. No recent betrayed friendship could match that memory.

His family should have aided him. They were D’Angeline. They knew how beauty could drive a man.

What matter if the Whore’s broken fingers would never wield an abacus; he had had raven hair as long as the Doctor’s mother’s.

The world was so full of hypocrites, the Doctor mused, shutting his suitcase.

 

 **Eisheth (Compassion)**

It is an incalculable relief to be lying flat.

His bed is soft, and the Alchemist's little mutterings are as strangely soothing as the sting of the Alchemist's cleansing cream.

The Steward is glad his limbs have stopped betraying him, and he can reach for the Alchemist's hand without shaking.

\--

The warmth and strength of the Steward's grip are medically reassuring. The Alchemist is-- glad he thought to wonder after his guest.

D'Angeline sickness is part of him too, and the Steward's attractiveness is undeniable-- but willingness is more than the absence of a word.

Whatever that word might be.

 

 **Namaah (Passion)**

The Alchemist does not touch him the first time he asks, or the second. Too much, too quickly-- not yet—no desire to be like _him_.

The third time he does not ask, only waits in his rooms for the wall to open. Silently meeting gold eyes before removing his jacket.

It is different. He knew it would be.

Surrender freely given is a closer bond than surrender forced or taken.

For the first time, held down more securely by the lips on his than the hands on his wrists, the Steward can see why the D'Angelines consider this holy.

**Author's Note:**

> Notes for those unfamiliar with the terminology of Kushiel's Legacy:  
> D'Angeline sickness = homosexuality
> 
> Signale = safe word
> 
> Bryony House = one of the thirteen house of the Night Court in the City of Elua. Their canon is fondness for money, for wagers, and all financial trade. Like all Servants of Namaah, none in Terre D'Ange would call them whores outside of anger or jest.


End file.
